Walburga
by Miss British Teacakes
Summary: A slightly different, if not a little short, perspective on Sirius' mother. Because it needs to be done.


It took until she was thirty-five to have her first child. After some time, her parents began to worry when they _weren't_ getting any grandchildren, and eventually manage to push her into testing both her and her husband for fertility tests—secretly of course, there was no need for a scandal.

But when she finally had her first child, she was delighted that she got it right the first time around. It was a little boy, and quite possibly the most beautiful baby she had ever seen. Even the midwife said that she had never seen a more beautiful baby, and she had seen quite a few, and though he screamed for a while she eventually calmed down and peered up at them out of big, dark eyes.

When she went to hold him, though, he pushed. He didn't like being held, and that's all there was to it. She couldn't hug him, feed him, or rock him to sleep. And so she left the child in the care of a nurse.

She had almost resolved to not have any more children when her husband convinced her to give him another. He wanted a little girl, he said, one that he could pamper and dress in lace and ribbons. And so she conceded, if only for the fact that he always looked at her so adoringly, and held her so gently, as if she were a dream that might shatter were he not careful.

However, when she did have the child, a little more than a year later, it was a boy. And the child was ugly as sin. However, he was quiet as a mouse when he came out. She didn't see him, really, for a while afterward. There was something wrong, she just kept bleeding. And finally, when it was all over, she was told that she would be unable to have another child.

When she finally got to hold her second son, though, she knew it was worth it. Unlike her first, beautiful child, this ugly little thing clung to her as if his life depended on it. When the nurse tried to take him away he would wail and reach for her, and she would take him back and wave the nurse away.

As they grew older, though, she found herself unable to figure how to show any affection. Her oldest son found he could get away with anything, should he smile just the right way. She and her husband would give him anything he wanted, if he would just stay their little boy.

The younger grew out of his original hideousness in time, although was never quite as radiant as his brother. He was quieter, and his eyebrows would come together just so and his lips would turn down, just a little, should he think disapprovingly of something. And while his brother continued to push her away, this younger one continued to cling to her, loved to petted and earn little smiles of approval.

She lost her older child, with his good looks and strong personality. She blamed her original rejection of him for the way he turned out, felt she never loved him enough for him to feel the affection that would have kept him with her. She raved and cursed his name and declared that he was no son of hers. But still she cried for two days afterward, and wouldn't speak more than a few words to anyone for nearly a week after that. Not even her younger—now only—son could break the spell.

Afterwards, she loved her only son even more, held him even closer. In return, he strived to be even better, to make her happy, his father proud.

When she lost him, she could barely take the sorrow. No longer would she be the noble, restrained lady that she had been, a devoted and loving wife, or a kind and gracious mistress. She always said exactly what she was thinking all the time, and pushed her husband away, until he was almost afraid of her. She would protect herself from the heartbreak of loosing him when the time came by estranging him. Even so, it hurt beyond all belief when he died.

And when the news that the man that used to be part of her family had gone mad, so did she. Behind all the spite and hatred sparked by his betrayal, without her even knowing it, it hurt that something so terrible could happen. The child with the big grey eyes and charming smile, who declared mutual hate for the family, had, for whatever reason, lost his mind.

For four years, she lived like this, alone in a dark old house, screaming orders that made no sense at her servants. And then, before she even woke up one morning, she died. The whole business of her mental state in those final years was kept quiet, as was the funeral. And while nobody showed outward shame, there was no pride either.

It wouldn't have mattered anyway. She hadn't cared about any of them anymore, anyway.

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Notes: Wow. I finally write something, and it's _this_.

You know, there's so many stories in which Walburga Black is a terrible, cruel person who beats Sirius and all that...but I wonder how true that actually was. I mean, you don't have to abuse your children to be a bad mother, and the only truly cruel person in that family seems to be Bellatrx—even the Malfoys completely loose interest in the end. And what if it was true that her heart was broken when Sirius ran away? And maybe, despite common belief, she actually _did_ love her husband?

Anyway, I felt it was time to give a slightly different perspective.


End file.
